


Chekhov's Gun

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [47]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, demon ron speirs, shifter luz, the Philly Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: “Here,” George murmured, resting a hand warmly on Joe’s shoulder.  Joe raised bloodshot, weary eyes and George felt another pang, deep in his chest.  George passed over the cup of coffee which Joe took with a murmur of thanks.  “Anything?”Joe shook his head.  “Nothing.” He turned his gaze back toward the bed.George followed, his eyes landing on the still form of John Julian, who lay, bruised and broken, swathed in blankets and bandages.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, George Luz & Carwood Lipton
Series: What We Do In The Dark [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366063
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	Chekhov's Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lysel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysel/gifts).



> Hello lovely readers, here's a present! I hope you enjoy ;)
> 
> For Lysel <3

Three days earlier:

He made his way briskly down the sterile white hallway, the steady beep of machines and murmur of voices a background hum. The nurse posted in the alcove two doors down turned and gave him a tired, but warm smile—not Babe’s mom; she was hopefully at home getting some rest for a change. George didn’t think she’d slept since she’d heard the news about Babe, even with Bill’s constant hovering. George smiled back at the woman then turned into the dimly lit hospital room, his steps light, quiet. 

He made his way to the slumped form in the chair at the side of the bed, who didn’t even stir at his approach. “Here,” George murmured, resting a hand warmly on Joe’s shoulder. Joe raised bloodshot, weary eyes and George felt another pang, deep in his chest. George passed over the cup of coffee which Joe took with a murmur of thanks. He’d been sitting there for six hours already, having relieved Bill in the middle of the night. “Anything?”

Joe shook his head. “Nothing.” His voice was rougher than usual and he sighed, his shoulders slumping once more, defeated, helpless. He turned his gaze back toward the bed.

George followed, his eyes landing on the still form of John Julian, who lay, bruised and broken, swathed in blankets and bandages. The machines beeped and hissed steadily next to him. The doctors didn’t know when he’d wake up, but every day he continued to sleep worried everyone more. George’s hand tightened, just a fraction, on Joe’s shoulder. 

Julian was a tall, gangly teenager, usually so sugared up and full of energy he made George look tame. He was just out of high school, working at Toye’s to save up some cash for a car he’d been eyeing for months now. He was their resident pain in the ass, but he was a good kid. _A kid_. Human, fragile, innocent. Just like Babe. And now the two of them had paid the price for the Pack and for the hunters and the witches. George’s other hand curled into a fist at his side but he forced his breathing to remain calm. Anger wouldn’t do a bit of good here, except maybe upset Joe again, and he didn’t need that either. Joe had only just barely healed up enough to get on his own feet again, though he still carried a limp. George sighed, relaxing his fist. It was gonna be a long watch.

* * *

His small apartment had always been enough for him: it had the basic necessities, was within walking distance of Toye’s, and the sweet old lady who owned the Chinese restaurant downstairs sometimes brought him leftover dumplings. Life had been good. 

Now the only thing George noticed about his apartment was what was missing. Lip’s bag still sat next to George’s couch but the man was gone, in the wind, possessed by a motherfucking demon. George had just gotten him back—after the years of wondering and the soft ache of loss, he’d gotten his best friend back. And now he was gone again. He was gone. He’d come here and George had promised to take care of him, and now _he was gone._ Lip was gone and Babe was gone and all of George’s friends had been beaten up and knocked around and their home had been burnt out. George knew he’d been lucky that he wasn’t at the bar that night, but he couldn’t help cursing his own luck. He wished he’d been there. He didn’t know if there was anything he could’ve done to stop what happened, but he couldn’t shake the guilt that he was the only one who had gotten out of it without a scratch. 

George tried to put those thoughts aside as he made his way to the shower. He had a couple hours before he’d be back at the hospital, taking his own shift with Julian. The water was too hot when he stepped under the spray but he didn’t bother to adjust it. Instead, he stood under the spray for a long time, unmoving, and fought just to breathe. They were gone. They were both gone.

When George had made his way to Philly a few years back, he’d been alone, and if not afraid, then at least cautious. He’d tried for a couple years to find others like himself but hadn’t had much luck. But then he’d heard of a werewolf pack in the city and he’d decided to check it out. When he’d shown up at Toye’s to introduce himself, the others had been wary, sniffing at him then huffing with wrinkled noses. The younger wolves assumed he was a stray from another pack who’d decided to set out on his own. But Bill and Joe had known what he really was. They’d decided to take a chance on him, anyway. Over the years, the Philly Pack had embraced him and now they were family: the wolves and the humans in their care. They were Pack. _Family_. And now George’s family had been attacked. Lip and poor, sweet Babe had been taken. 

George huffed in frustration and shut the water off. It was good enough. He dressed mechanically then made his way to his couch where he flopped down unceremoniously. It still smelled like Lip. George groaned in frustration and rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes. He was supposed to take a nap. That’s what Bill had told him, anyway, when he’d kicked him out of the hospital: “ _What are ya tryin’ to do, Luz, kill yourself? Go home and sleep for chrissakes, huh? You won’t do anyone any good if you collapse. Go on. You’ve done enough.”_ And George knew it was supposed to make him feel better, but it didn’t. Because he could see the absolute heartache in Bill’s eyes. Babe was his best friend. The kid was like a little brother to Bill. Hell, he was like a brother to all of them. When George had come to Philly, Babe was one of the first to welcome him. Maybe it was because he was a human, or maybe it was just his friendly nature, but Babe had always been kind to him. _And now a fucking demon had him and God knew what it was doing and George was just laying here like a sad, sorry son of a bitch._

He tossed once more. Lip’s scent was all over the place and George knew it was stupid to lay on the couch if he intended to rest, but he couldn’t make himself leave it. Just days before, his friend had sat here, smiling softly at him, and they’d had coffee and joked and been happy just to see each other again. Now…. Now. The couch still smelled like Lip.

The scent twisted at something inside of him and he fought to hold back the tears, but they were hot and demanding, and he felt a lump building in his throat. And then… _The couch still smelled like Lip._ George shot up, eyes wide, heart hammering, hands tingling with adrenaline. _That’s it!_

He snatched Lip’s bag off the floor and dug through it, tossing things here and there until he found one of Lip’s flannel shirts. It smelled like sweat and dirt and…Lip. A dark, satisfied smile curled George’s mouth. Everything fell into place and for the first time in days, his heart felt light. “Lip, buddy,” George muttered, heading into his room to throw together a bag, “I’m on my way.”

* * *

George hiked his bag over his shoulder and focused on his nose for a moment, just long enough that he felt his sense of smell heighten to that of a bloodhound’s. He took a deep breath and his instincts told him northwest. He didn’t have a car but he’d managed to get around the country by hitch hiking enough times in the past, and he’d do it now, too. He aimed toward the highway and began walking, fast, before he ran into one of the wolves and they attempted to stop him. His mind was focused on Lip, on Babe, on getting some revenge on the demons who had hurt Julian, Joe, and the rest of his family. He was just deciding on whether he’d have a better chance at getting a ride if he were a perky blonde or a seductive brunette when he stopped dead in his tracks, a chill running up his spine. 

He jerked around just in time to see the silhouette of a tall man before a hand pressed to his forehead and a voice commanded: “Sleep.”

Then George did.

* * *

George woke as if commanded, his mind clear and alert like he’d just had the best sleep of his life plus a shot of caffeine. He levered himself up and found that he was lying on a bed in what appeared to be a nice hotel room. A tall brunette man with sharp cheekbones and a defined jaw stood watching him with intense, dark hazel eyes. He wore dark wash jeans and a red button up with a black blazer over it. George gave him a once over, assessing the threat level ( _through the roof!!!_ ). He cast his gaze toward the door but realized that whoever this guy was, he was faster than George and he’d somehow managed to jump him in the middle of the street then proceeded to haul his unconscious body all the way to…wherever he was without getting caught. This guy was dangerous. George’s sharpened sense of smell picked up just the faintest hint of brimstone and he shuddered. He knew _what_ the guy was, suddenly.

Unmoving, unfazed by George staring back at him, the demon said “You’re George Luz. You’re friends with Carwood Lipton.”

George’s hackles rose and he recalled a description Lip had given, haltingly, painfully, not too long ago. If he was right, then he was royally fucked. Well and truly trapped. It didn’t matter how fast he was or how strong he made himself—this guy could outdo him with his eyes closed. George’s heart was still racing in his chest when he felt his trusty sense of bravado rise up in him. He pasted a smirk on his lips, decided to revert to sarcasm, and hoped that he didn’t die. He flicked his gaze from the demon’s head to his toes then back again, slowly, appraisingly. Then he said “And you must be the boyfriend. Sorry…ex. Ron, right?” The demon didn’t so much as blink. “Lip told me all about you.”

The demon quirked a brow and it actually made him look even more intimidating. “If that’s true, then you know I’m not one to be toyed with.”

George mimicked Ron’s quirked brow, all bluff, despite his pounding heart. He wondered if the demon could hear it. “What do you want?”

“You’re trying to find Carwood, aren’t you?”

George stiffened, his hands clenching. He knew it was a losing fight, but he’d take on this son of a bitch if it meant protecting Lip. “So, what if I am?”

Ron tilted his head, just slightly, and it made him look less human and more like a predator animal. “I want your help.”

* * *

He wasn’t sure if it was making friends with Lip that had gotten him here, the demon attack on Toye’s, or his own particular brand of stupidity, but half an hour later, George found himself in a parking lot with a demon while said demon mercilessly and efficiently broke into a midnight black Dodge Charger, popped the locks, and ordered “Get in.”

Having already decided to align himself with a creature from Hell, George climbed into the passenger seat. Ron slid behind the steering wheel, gaze steely, and said “Which direction?”

“Northwest.”

“Right. Let me know if it changes.”

And then Ron slammed on the gas and George pressed back into the passenger seat, hands scrabbling for the seatbelt. As they tore out of the city, George took a deep breath and reminded himself that he hadn’t been kidnapped, he’d agreed to this. He threw a look toward the dash and realized they were already going 80. He supposed a demon didn’t have to worry about dying, or about getting a ticket, or any of those other things. Not like humans. Or shifters. Realizing that it wouldn’t do him any good to mention the speed limit, George carefully studied the demon instead.

The guy was pretty handsome, in a classic sort of way, and he definitely gave off a bad boy vibe. George could see how Lip had found him attractive. But how in the world had Lip not realized this dude was a demon? It was all over him, from his mechanical gestures and piercing eyes, to his general disregard for safety. Lip had said the guy had been charming when they’d met, and so nice. George couldn’t see it. Lip also said the demon had fooled him, that he thought they’d had something real going on. George got the feeling that Lip had fallen in love with the guy.

Now, looking at Ron’s set jaw and determined eyes, the way that he single-mindedly pursued Lip, George thought the feeling was probably mutual. He thought back to their brief discussion in the hotel and felt the heat of satisfaction slide through his belly. Vengeance burned through his veins.

_“I want your help.”_

_George snorted. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”_

_“You’re a shifter. I know you can track him. Magic prevents me from doing so.”_

_“You really think I’m gonna help you find him?”_

_The demon tipped its head. “You will. This time I asked. Next time I won’t.”_

_George swallowed thickly. “What do you want him for, anyway? He ended it with you.”_

_The demon’s jaw clenched. “Demons took him. They are likely torturing him.”_

_“Buddies of yours?”_

_“I don’t know who they are, but they’ll be sorry regardless.”_

_“What are you gonna do? Kill them?”_

_Just the slightest twitch of lips “Yes.”_

_“And what about Lip?”_

_“I will protect him.”_

_George regarded the demon for a long moment. “You can really do that? Kill them?”_

_“Oh, yes.”_

_George gulped. “You love him, don’t you? Really?”_

_They stared at each other for an interminable amount of time before Ron said, simply, “Yes.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So. Will you help me find him?”_

_In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yeah, alright. Let’s get those sons of bitches.”_

* * *

Ron leaned against the side of the car, arms folded over his chest, and watched with a curl of impatience as George Luz stalked back and forth across an empty field in Pennsylvania, sniffing at the air like a dog. “Well? Anything?” Ron asked.

“Give me a sec.” The shifter barked testily. 

Ron quirked a brow but decided to let it go. It hadn’t been the sharpest response he’d gotten from the shifter thus far, after all. About 8 hours into their drive, the shifter, who apparently had no sense of self-preservation, had turned to Ron and said _“You know… if you’re trying to win Lip over, you should probably think about not kidnapping his friends in the future.”_

_“I don’t care if he’s upset with me, so long as he’s alive.”_

_Luz had snorted at him. “I’m gonna call bullshit on that one.”_

_Still driving, Ron had turned to stare at him. “Excuse me?”_

_“Eyes on the road, man. You might not be able to die that way, but I can. And then where will you be?” He had a point. Much as he might appreciate the silence, Carwood was his first priority at the moment. Ron refocused on the road. “As I was saying, I think that’s bullshit. You do care what he thinks. That’s why you tried to call him.”_

_“He was with you, then, I presume?”_

_“Yeah, I told him he could stay until he got his head on straight again.” Luz had shaken his head and muttered “You really did a number on him.”_

_“I never meant to hurt him. I told him that and I meant it.”_

_“Yeah, well, you shoulda thought about that before lying to him about the whole…being a demon thing. He’s a hunter, you know.”_

_Ron smiled softly. “I know. I admire that about him.”_

_Luz gave him a strange look from the other side of the vehicle. “You’re a weird guy, you know that?”_

_Ron shrugged, unconcerned._

_“So what are you gonna do after we find him and Babe and kill the demons?”_

_“Apologize again and hope he listens to me.”_

_“If we manage to save him, I’m sure he will.”_

_Ron glanced at Luz out of the corner of his eye. “You think so? I think you’re being too forgiving on behalf of your friend.”_

_“I think you’re forgetting that Lip is one of the most kind-hearted, forgiving guys on the planet.”_

_Ron sighed heavily. “I know.”_

_“You better do right by him, or I swear to God…I don’t give a fuck if you’re a demon.”_

_Ron snorted. “Obviously.”_

_“Just so we’re clear.” Luz said. Then, a minute later, “Turn right.”_

Now they stood in the field, the sun pouring down on them, burning off the frost from the morning. “Anything?”

“They headed east from here.”

Ron growled. “Again? We’ve been zigzagging for the last two days.”

“Yes, again.” Luz snapped. “Look, they must’ve known that they’d have a shit ton of people on their tails, including the Doc and probably you. They weren’t about to make it easy.”

Ron’s lip curled. “The Doc. The witch, you mean.”

Luz rolled his eyes. “Yes, the witch. He’s a real badass and they took his boyfriend, too, remember.”

“I sought his help first. He was…unreasonable.”

Luz snorted. “Yeah, he can a pretty intense guy…sort of like yourself. I can’t imagine he’d want you anywhere near Babe.”

“I told him I could help him find them, if he’d simply lift the magic blocking Carwood from me. He was stubborn.”

“I bet.” Luz squinted at him in the glare of the sunshine. “You’re not gonna hurt Babe, right?” He folded his arms over his chest, in imitation of Ron. “That kid is like a brother to me.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt him. Now, are you sure? East?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

Twenty eight hours later, they found themselves standing under a bridge in Edison, New Jersey. “They were here.” Luz said, “I can smell Lip. His scent is strong. Almost like….” Luz frowned.

“Like what?” Ron demanded.

“I smell blood.”

Ron’s fists clenched and his eyes went full black for a minute. He wanted to destroy, to obliterate. Oh, he would. He most definitely would. “A lot?” He asked, through clenched teeth.

“No,” Luz decided, still sniffing the air, “just a few drops.”

“That’s enough,” Ron growled, “they’ll pay for every drop. Can you smell where they headed next?”

“Yeah,” Luz said, voice growing soft with realization. “Yeah, I can. Northeast. I think they went to New York.”

Ron felt a brutal smile curl his lips. “Good. We’re close.” He opened his mouth to tell Luz to get back into the car, when he halted in his steps, his breath catching, all the hair on the back of his neck rising as if from static. “No,” he growled, clutching at his belly where pain twisted suddenly like a knife. “No!” He began to shake, and his vision went in and out. He collapsed to his knees and he was vaguely aware of Luz shouting somewhere behind him. His being began to unravel, then, the particles of his body disintegrated, and he felt a _pull_ that could only mean one thing. He shook, and shook, and shook. “NO!!!” He roared. He clutched at himself, clutched at the ground, fought to keep himself whole, but the force was too powerful. “No!” He shouted, as his voice was torn from him. His last thought was of Carwood, of how close they were, how close…. Then, in the space between seconds, he ceased to exist.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, y'all, comments are love! Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.


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